


Smile for the Stray Dog

by babybirdblues



Category: DOGS (Manga)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Unhealthy Coping, disfunctional living, lots of death, some triggering stuff:, written in second pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Badou ends up on the wrong end of a mission, again.  He copes, sort of; Heine manages to find him in time too, so that's something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile for the Stray Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was an old piece I just recently edited. There is a reason for the second person pov and the copious amount of the word darling. It's hinted throughout the edited version, unlike the original version. The old, unedited version is posted on FF but it is less cohesive. It was also written six years ago. So, yeah.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Also, thanks to [Morcai](archiveofourown.org/user/Morcai/) for helping me edit it into something resembling quality.

You sigh, leaning back in the chair you're tied to. Horrible day isn't it, darling? You get assigned this stupid mission and that stray dog is late. You know what happens when your stray dog is late; you, the eye patch, get caught. Now, that never is fun is it? Oh no, never, ever fun. Well it is, a bit, until you run out of cigarettes, right, darling? However this time it's not fun, even before the withdrawal.

Don't fret though darling, your white ~~knight~~ dog will come and save you eventually. Though you have to wonder, will he be on time? Or will today be the day that he doesn't make it? What will happen to you  then, darling? What indeed.

Especially with those looks they're giving you. If you think about it darling, the looks remind you of those predators on the streets.   
  
Now, now, don't panic, darling. No, don't panic. It'll only make it worse. Oh so very much worse. Keep calm don't show any fear and your stray dog will find you. He'll sniff you out and take you home.   ~~I can’t help you out being in here, you know that.~~

Ah, ‘will he been soon enough’ is what you must be thinking. Yes, yes darling, you might be right this time. They're coming into the room now: hooks and knives and chains and looks that spells trouble for you.

Regretting taking the job now aren't you, darling? Poor, poor eye patch, those chains must hurt. Tighter and tighter they're wrapped around your chest and arms. Darling, you really should fight harder. You'll never make it out like that, especially if your stray dog doesn't come. Oh look now, they're talking about a prize; you don't have to think hard to figure out what it is. Oh no. You darling, are the prize for whoever breaks you first. You: the meddlesome man who happened upon their association.

You shouldn't close your eyes darling, no you really shouldn't. Who knows what they'll do to such a darling eye patch if you don't pay attention. You might scream, might break if you close your eyes.

Oh, what's that, darling? Open your ears and listen closely. Are those gunshots? Quite possibly; meaning, darling, that you might be seeing your stray dog sooner than you think. Isn't that great, darling?

In just seconds he's here and bursting through that door for you darling, all guns ablaze and the black dog nearly unleashed. You can see it in his eyes, but instead of being afraid like you usually are, darling, you relax. You're safe; safe and still breathing with your stray dog.

Unfortunately, darling, you both missed the man with the gun in the corner, you in your relief and he in his hurry. The man has such pretty shots too, both shot towards the biggest threat.  (You’re not the threat -- never were, were you, darling?)  Straight towards the head, straight through the heart, and straight to the ground your stray dog falls.  Blood pools around your stray dog - you watch as it soaks the area around him.  It’ll be a pain to clean his shirt tomorrow, you know.  But it’ll be more of a pain to wash the blood out of his hair; his white stains pink if blood is left to dry too long.  Perhaps you can let the angel take care of it.  He never says no to her.

You start as a fist connects with your face.  It’s your own fault, really.  Because the man probably would have left, really he would have, but you screamed, darling. You screamed hoarse and ragged -- believing a man like that could bring a stray dog down, shame -- and brought his attention to you again. Look at that ugly face, darling, it's contorted in rage. You do know how he's going to get rid of it, right?  How he’s going to act because of plans ruined.

Pray, darling, pray that your stray dog can get up in time. If not, well, if not there really is no need for him to get up is there? Ah, wait, you won't break that easily will you? No, not that easily.  You’ll just add another crack to your many others.  Nurse this one with another pack of smokes and wonder if you ever weren’t dirty or broken.  If you were more than what you were.  But then you’ll grin and decide it doesn’t matter you don’t need to be saved from yourself, just situations.  Unfortunately, if your stray dog can’t save you from situations like this, well, no one ever well.

Focus again, darling.  You’ll miss it.  The disgusting man is pulling at your hair, gently, then brutally, then gently again, and cutting into your pale skin.

Any minute now he's going to get bored of playing with you, darling. He's going to get bored and you know what will happen then. How many minutes have passed do you think? Enough time for your stray dog to get up? Hopefully. Those hands are moving lower aren't they? Lower and lower until they're at your belt. All the blood is washing out of your face, darling, just like the blood flowing from your stray dog.

(It's probably best if you close your eyes at this point, darling.  You’re starting to get sick.  You want to focus but there’s no use seeing it when you'll have to feel it with your entire being.)

Oh now, biting your lip won't help, darling, the only thing that will is if the man was away: far and well away. His face is drawing closer as you try to pull back. You can't, darling, the chains are still wrapped around you, you can't escape.  And isn’t that funny?  The one time you couldn’t free yourself while your stray dog was causing havoc and you end up in a horrible situation.

Open your eyes now, darling, you must have noticed the absence of the man by now. Just open your eyes and look at your stray dog. Such a beautiful sight for a tormented mind like yours, isn't it, darling? Yes, yes. Such a beautiful sight it is.

And oh, how careful your stray dog is when he helps you down, down and into a room with no blood, no bodies, and no other men. He sits you up on the pool table -- an odd object in the building of these particular men, you had been expecting a bed hadn't you, darling? Your attention drifts back to your stray dog as he gently picks at your wounds.  The knife wound across your neck stings as his fingers prod at it.  He’s frowning, lips turned down and you choke on a laugh.  This is more than you truly expected; isn't a verbal lashing more his style?

Darling, he must be more worried about you than you thought.

And that turns out to be true, darling.  Because during the time it took him to come back to you and the time it took for him to make sure you were capable of making it home, an hour must have passed.  You listened as he went through the compound making sure everyone was dead.  It was freeing, darling, wasn’t it?  But it’s still difficult to close your eyes.  You, darling, don’t want to risk it.  Even with his back pressed firmly against your front as he carries you home. If you close your eyes, you'll feel that man. You don't ever want that again, not that anyone can blame you. Even someone like you is allowed to feel disgust, darling -- no one can blame it on being screwed up.  At least now you have some common ground with the girls you’ve rescued.  Not a full common ground, but it’s something.

Your stray dog’s heartbeat is steady as he passes through alleyways.  

You wonder what you must look like to others, darling.  Two blood soaked men, one slightly less than feral.  You choke on another laugh, fingers tightening in your stray’s shirt.  You wish your cigarettes had survived.  You wish you had never accepted the mission.  But, darling, part of you knows you won’t stop.  Part of you knows that this is how your life works.

The laughter catches hold of you, darling, making your stray dog stop.  He has to hold more firmly because you're gasping, shock taking hold.  It’s not surprising and he doesn’t even sigh.   You’ve been through this before.  Your breathing is getting too fast and perhaps he’s just waiting for you to stop breathing completely.  You get jostled for that, darling.  It’s what makes you realise you’ve been speaking out loud.  But your stray hasn’t left yet, instead he gives an annoyed look and pinches you.  

It doesn’t even register, does it, darling?  Because you’ve finally fully realised that you’re out of there and somewhat safe; your stray dog isn’t going to give you up just yet.

\------

How much time has passed, you wonder, soaking in your bathtub, your stray dog firmly behind you. It's quiet and his heartbeat is calming. Maybe before had all been a dream, darling, just a horrible, terrible, lifelike dream, darling. But no such luck: your stray dog wouldn't be doing this if it was. You'd be struggling for dominance on that ratty old couch of yours if it were, wouldn't you darling? He can feel how tense you still are, you do know that right? He just doesn't know the words to say to you. The words won't come to him, darling, so you'll have to settle for something else.

Before your stray dog was looking at you in his own way of concern.  But now, well, now he’s looking at you in amusement, darling.  It really is your own fault.  You probably shouldn’t have told him that you thought aliens created humans, darling.  He compares all the girls he’s ever known to what he knows of aliens -- it startles laughter out of you.  Never before had you even had a hint of him believing in anything.  (You keep the past the past -- presentfuture is yours.)

So, perhaps darling, he does know the right words to say after all.  Just talking to your stray dog like nothing happened is probably the best thing for you.  And oh, darling, you can just imagine the look on the perverted priests face when your stray mentions telling the old pervert about alien women, just to see what he does.  No one else could relax you; nothing else could.  This is normal, this is right, isn’t it darling?

Be careful, darling, your eyelids are dropping, you're slipping under the water. It truly is a good thing you have your stray dog with you. You never would have made it home, darling, even if you had survived the rest of the night -- not without your white ~~knight~~ dog.  (I’m only whispers, darling, you can’t rely on me.)  But, best not think about that right before Morpheus claims you, darling. You'll think more of it tomorrow, when you're not in such a comfortable state.

Right now your stray dog is here, keeping the nightmares away, and reading you a romance novel that his little angel is making him read. Such a strange ending to a terrible day, isn't it, darling? Enjoy it; you never know when these wonderful times will come to an end. Enjoy every minute you can, darling, he’s worth it, your stray dog.  The end will come, darling, you know this.  But the travels are worth the end, aren’t they?


End file.
